A Winchester's Christmas
by KwiditchJunkie
Summary: Twas the night before Christmas morning and Santa is making his yearly rounds of giftgiving when he stumbles upon a lone Winchester. Classic poem with a Supernatural twist.


Happy Holidays! In celebration of the season's festivities, I give you another Supernatural fic. I got the inspiration to write this after reading James M. Schmidt's poem "Merry Christmas, My Friend." So credit to him for giving me a great muse.

Anyway, this is Little Sammy-centric from Santa Claus's point of view. I enjoyed writing something like this. (Little Sammy is so freakin' cute.) I've never really done a fanfic in poetic format before. I think I may do something like this again if I get enough of a fan base.

As always, please review after you've read. Hopefully you enjoy it. Again, to all I wish Happy Holidays.

_**Disclaimer: Sam and Dean are not mine, but oh my they are so fine. The CW has all the rights, so please don't start any fights.**_

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**A Winchester's Christmas**

'Twas the night before Christmas, quiet as any night,  
An empty hotel room remained cold and without light.  
I had come down the chimney, with presents in sack  
To bring happiness just before morning's crack.

As I ducked under the place, I saw no joy;  
No garland or cookies, not even a toy.  
Weapons rested against the bed near fake identities  
And on the wall hung pictures of many fearsome entities.

With pistols and shotguns, arms of all kind,  
A shocking thought soon came to my mind.  
I inched forward, not wanting to make any noise,  
For this was the home of the Winchester boys.

From under the covers poked a tiny brown head.  
His eyes were closed as he slept alone in his bed.  
He must not have been older than seven,  
Dreams carrying him up and through the heavens.

On this very morn, children from all over the world  
Would wake to surprises and festivities unfurled.  
But this young Winchester knew no such treat,  
For he was raised among the Hunting elite.

I had observed this poor family's affliction,  
To any other it would merely seem as fiction.  
If it were not for this brethren of brave knights,  
The world would be doomed to eternal fights.

Man versus creature, good versus evil,  
An immortal war of worlds caught in an upheaval.  
These soldiers give their lives to keep us secure,  
Keeping our innocence about the darkness pure.

At that moment, I silently began to weep,  
Carefully making sure I did not release a peep.  
But my precautions to let him rest went awry  
Just as the sleeping figure began to rise.

"Santa?" he called out nervously and blinking in surprise.  
Weapon close in hand, he stared at me with deep hazel eyes.  
It was Sam, the youngest and most chaste,  
Who patiently watched me without haste.

"Could you not find us all these years?" asked he,  
"I know we haven't been the nicest, you see,  
But I tried my best to be extra good this year,  
Just to prove to Dean that you came here!"

I wiped my eyes, for this boy's spirit could be broken.  
Slowly searching through my sack, I revealed a small token  
That was wrapped in red. "Here you go, Sammy," said I,  
"This is for you. A gift for when Christmas is so nigh."

The boy's eyes illuminated beyond compare,  
Gently taking the present, handling it with care.  
"Thank you, Santa!" he said with jubilation,  
"This will prove that you're not part of my imagination."

I soon left the boy to his small yet priceless souvenir,  
And boarded my sleigh pulled by awaiting reindeer.  
As I soared over the snow-covered town,  
I waved to the little hero who was afraid of clowns.

He returned the gesture and opened his reward;  
Inside was a present that he most adored.  
Although Dean never learned of his prized possession,  
Sam knew that he didn't have to prove my profession.

He never showed the favor to anyone;  
He kept it secret, locked away from the sun.  
Only on Christmas morn each year did he unearth  
Its contents to truly appreciate his gift's worth.

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I know what you're thinking. I know. What did Santa give Sam? That's part of the fun (and cruelty) of my poem. I'm leaving it up to you as the reader to decide for yourself. I personally have my own idea, but I want to hear your theories. What do you think Sammy got? This should be interesting. 

Tell me what you think: Good? Bad? Both? Make my day and write a review. Thanks for taking the time to read!


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